


Baby, I'm Gonna Wreck Between Your Thighs

by Bennyhatter



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alpha Negan, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, BDSM, Begging, Biting, Blindfolds, Blood Kink, Bottom Jesus, Cock Cages, Cockwarming, Dirty Talk, Filth, Filthy fuckers, Humiliation, Knotting, Leather Kink, M/M, Male Pregnancy, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Murderers, Negan's filthy mouth, Object Insertion, Omega Jesus, Panty Kink, Paul's a sassy shit, Puppy Play, Rope Bondage, Rough Sex, Scratching, Self-Lubrication, Spanking, Tail Sex, Top Negan, Toys, Using the word "pussy" instead of "asshole", Vampires, choking on cock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-07-10 08:28:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 16,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6975475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bennyhatter/pseuds/Bennyhatter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of drabbles and such of absolute filth between Jesus and Negan.</p><p>Because clearly I am trash.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pretty

**Author's Note:**

> I have no excuse. *shrugs*

"Gonna quiet that mouth of yours, boy?"

Jesus grins and yanks down his bandana to expose his face, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief and his fingers just _itching_ to play.

"Thought you liked me sassy, _Daddy_ ," he retorts, and it's worth it to watch those brown eyes darken to nearly black. Worth it to see Negan's shoulders tense and his lips twitch like he's fighting back whatever reaction he'd almost had. Worth it for that tiny slip of control, that hint of the ravenous beast that hides beneath the thin mask of unhinged, unholy _glee_ Negan plays so well.

His Daddy is a monster, even when he's not wielding Lucille, and Jesus loves to play with his rabid hound; loves the thrill of getting away from those jaws just in time and watching them snap shut around thin air.

"Like you on your knees better, kid, cryin' so pretty while you choke yourself on my dick."

Negan lounges back against his seat, legs falling open a little and his head tilting just slightly. His smile is somewhere between a sadistic grin and a snarl, the hellhound rousing with a rumble that Jesus would swear he can feel reverberating across the floorboards. He can't stop the way he swallows, can't stop the quick swipe of his tongue across his lips. His throat prickles, sweat beading beneath dirty fabric as his temperature rises and his heavy coat turns restrictive.

"Is that what you want?" he shoots back, but he knows he's already lost. _Daddy_ knows it too, one fang gleaming with his smirk and his boots scraping loudly over the wooden floor as the gap between his thighs widens.

"It's what you're desperate for, clearly. And who am I to say no? Get to it, baby. Don't make me tell you twice."

"'Course not, Daddy. Would _never_ do that." His grin is sharp, a wolf sensing victory, but he's got precious little compared to the Hellion before him, and the fight of it, the untamed fire, sends him to his knees and compels him to _crawl_ until he's mouthing at denim and feeling trapped flesh swell enticingly beneath his hungry lips. A hand yanks his beanie off before fingers tangle in his hair and press his face to Negan's groin while the man grinds against his cheek and mouth.

"Gonna break you one day, brat. Gonna love every second, too."

Snorting, Jesus unbuckles and unzips the dark denim, peeling it open like the best kind of present and reaching into the slit of the black boxers to claim his prize. "Now, Daddy, what's the fun in playing with a toy if you're just gonna break it?" he scolds, and before Negan can fire back with a witty retort or a pointed threat, he opens his mouth wide and swallows the man's cock down.

"Fuck yeah, you little slut. Show me those pretty tears, baby. You know Daddy loves to see you cry."

He chokes himself on it the way he's been desperate to all evening, showing his Daddy that he _is_ capable of behaving like a good boy should when he looks up with eyes that are already wet; his throat working eagerly as he sucks and slurps obscenely.

He _can_ be good. He just has more fun being a brat, and he knows Negan wouldn't have him any other way.


	2. Heat

Fingers tangle in his long hair and yank his head back. The angle is uncomfortable, borderline _painful_ , but Jesus just mewls pitifully and claws at the ground in front of him as he shoves himself back onto his Alpha's cock again and again.

"So damn eager for it. Can't even wait like a good boy, can ya," Negan chuckles. He barely sounds out of breath and Paul hates him just a little for it, but mostly he's too desperate for the thick cock that slams into him again and again, the sounds wet and filthy because of his slick; his body burning from his heat and demanding more, more, _more_.

"Yessss," he hisses, and his voice is _wrecked_ just like the rest of him, raspy and too breathy as he lisps and sobs and _begs_ with no restraint. "Yesh, yesh, please, more Alpha. Want **everything**."

"And you'll get it, baby, don't you worry. Stuffed full and knotted and fucking _sloppy_ , just like the good slut I know you are."

Jesus keens at the praise, teeth bared and ears quivering; his tail curled up and away to offer his dripping hole. When Negan shoves him forward his forearms hit the ground hard, claws digging into the dirt and his spine dipping. He arches his hips and drops his head, panting and gasping and still begging, _pleading_ , and he comes so hard when he feels the first snag of the Alpha's knot against his gaping rim that his vision blacks out and his scream sends the nearby birds scattering in fear.

Negan laughs and fucks him through it, carving his way into Jesus' bones and demanding more still when blunt nails dig into the back of his neck and the knot inside of him presses at all the right places needed to make him sob through a mock orgasm. He bares his teeth against the ground, gritty dirt sticking to his lips and fangs, and the Alpha roars triumphantly as he starts to cum.


	3. Lucille

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Adry, who requested Jesus being tied up with ropes and fucked with Lucille.
> 
> The rest of it is kind of my own trashy self being, y'know, filthy as fuck.
> 
> Here ya go.

The ropes dig into his skin on just the wrong side of discomfort, and Paul can't see himself right now, but he knows what he must look like – head tipped back to show off the coils of rope around his throat; arms bound behind his back where the knots join to keep his head immobile. He can feel the rough, abrasive lines woven across his legs where it crisscrosses and binds his ankles to each other as well as his thighs.

His breathing is already fast and harsh, his body thrumming and his muscles taut from anticipation.

"Take it off," he whispers, staring at the blackness of the blindfold and listening to Negan as the man prowls around him to inspect his own handiwork.

"Now why would I do that?" the man chuckles, and when gloved fingers twist his nipple harshly Paul can't stop his strangled moan or the way his hips buck helplessly in response to the pleasure-pain.

"Fuckin' sadist," he spits, but considering he's the one kneeling on concrete, trussed up like a turkey waiting for slaughter, he hasn't got much room to talk. Negan knows it, too, and his laugh is high and cold and delighted. That's the only warning Jesus gets before he's shoved over onto his side, and the suddenness of the action combined with the way it makes his body strain causes the thick plug inside him to nudge against his prostate.

"You know you love it, you slut. Always beg for more, always want the bruises and the pain – scream so prettily when I'm fucking you just the way you crave."

"Fuck off." Paul can deny it all he wants – has done so more times than he cares to count. In the end, though, Negan is right. He _loves_ this, loves the pain and the pleasure and the humiliation when Negan makes him do degrading things. It gets him off like nothing else ever has. He _needs_ it.

When the plug is pulled out with no warning, he chokes on the saliva pooling in his mouth and struggles not to fully choke himself when his spine arches sharply and he pulls on the ropes.

" _Fuck_ ," he moans raggedly, and Negan laughs again; tucks a boot under his cheek at lifts his head with the toe. Paul can't see him, doesn't know what expression he's wearing, but he can make a good guess.

"Yep, kiddo, you're gettin' fucked tonight. Don't you worry your pretty little cockwhore self about that. Thing is, though, you've kind of gone and pissed me off again, so I don't think you deserve my dick. You haven't earned it."

"You ever stop talking?" Paul grunts, and the leather toe beneath him presses warningly against the corner of his mouth.

"Watch it, slut. You're on thin ice as it is. So shut the fuck up and take it like the bitch you are. Don't want to hear a goddamn word unless it's approved."

Gritting his teeth, Jesus whines at the hot, shameful pulse of lust that makes his blood burn. Sweat prickles across his skin, his ass sore and empty – _aching_ – and when he senses Negan crouching down behind him he almost sobs in relief.

"Ready, boy?"

Licking his lips, Paul closes his eyes and whispers, "Please."

"Please what?"

"I want it. I need it. _Fuck me_."

The reply he gets it the smooth, circular end of something pressing against his loose hole. He squirms, trying to push back and figure out what it is, and he gets his answer quickly when Negan pushes it inside with a twist and the end pops in. It's thin just behind the knobby end, almost familiar, but it's not until it starts to withdraw and the tip catches against his rim that he _realizes_.

"Son of a _bitch_ ," he gasps, and the next breath is forced from him as a desperate, horrified sob when Negan thrusts the handle of _Lucille_ back inside of him. It goes deeper this time, the hard wood unforgiving and _too much_ when the angle makes it press against his prostate hard enough that tears run down his face and drool leaks from the side of his mouth. _"Oh my god."_

Negan laughs and continues to fuck him with the bat, and Jesus is powerless to stop him – hating himself for not _wanting_ it to stop, and when the end of Lucille twists against his prostate he _screams_ through his orgasm. The pressure never lets up, never gives him respite, and he can barely hear Negan's next words over the sounds of his own unmaking.

"Shit, that was nothing, kid. I'm nowhere _near_ done with you yet."

"Bring it on," Paul manages to rasp weakly, even as his body jerks and twitches through the aftermath and his cum cools against his skin. "Can take anything you can dish out."

"Oh, you're going to regret saying that, baby. I'll make sure of it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have a prompt for Negan/Jesus you'd like to see, feel free to leave it in the comments!


	4. Leather - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For lemondrop, who requested the prompt 'leather'
> 
> Her idea and mine were slightly different, so I wrote both!
> 
> I hope you like, sissy! <3

The new leather beneath his white-knuckled grip is still somewhat stiff. It creaks slightly as he struggles to keep his hold, his sweaty palms slip-sliding against the smooth, dark back of the couch. It's at once cool and hot against the trembling clench of his thighs, sticking to his skin almost painfully when he has to adjust his position so he doesn't fall off the arm he's currently straddling.

"Daddy, _please_ ," he moans. His Daddy wants him to put on a show, and Jesus knows how to do that. He knows how to tip his head to make his throat seem longer; to make the tendons strain deliciously as he clenches his teeth and whines through the barrier of them. The muscles in his back tense and ripple with each rock of his hips, and the leather beneath his cock is too wet from his own pre-cum to chafe anymore. He's still red from the friction, still writhing and scraping himself raw, but the pain has lessened with each drip of need. It offers a smooth glide that he fucks against desperately, his rhythm shot to pieces and his sounds too desperate for his own comfort. Not that that stops him from begging.

"What did I say, boy? Daddy wants to see his little slut christen the new couch. Maybe, if you do it fast enough, I might take that toy out and fuck you with your face shoved into your own mess. You just love being filthy for Daddy, don't you."

"Yes, yes, yes," Jesus begs, his hips still working frantically. He rocks forward, desperate for the friction now, and then grinds back to make the plug spark against all of the places he wishes his Daddy was touching instead. "Please, please, fuck, _Daddy_! Fuck, love it so much, want it. _Need it_ , Daddy, oh, _please_."

"Gettin' close, huh? Well, go on then. Show me."

Leaning forward, Jesus bites at his own knuckles with a whine, the change in angle making him almost sob from the way the tip of the toy presses against his prostate. He stays just that that, fucking back and forth with no restraint as the pressure builds low in his belly and his cock throbs. Tears prickle at his eyes, his body tensing up as he gets closer and closer, but he just can't tip over the edge and it makes him whimper in frustration.

"Daddy, please, help, I _can't_."

"That right? Can't obey your Daddy, huh? You always did need a little something more. Think you deserve it?"

"Please, please I'll do anything, Daddy _please_."

The toy inside him buzzes to life suddenly, the out-of-sync pulses like shockwaves that make his thighs clench even tighter around the arm of the couch as a ragged scream rips from his throat. He thinks that's it, this is what he _needs_ , and then a hand cracks against the swell of his ass, clipping his full, greedy hole, and Jesus comes so hard he breaks the skin on his knuckle when he bites down on it again to muffle his howl.

The aftermath leaves him feeling weak and shaky, the aftershocks shivering across his sweaty skin making him gasp and moan as he tries to piece his world back together after such a shattering climax. He can hear his Daddy behind him, can sense his dark delight as he watches his boy struggle to recover.

"On your feet, little slut. Looks like you've been good enough."

"Thank you, Daddy," Jesus whispers as he slides from his seat. He doesn't let go of the couch yet, not quite trusting himself to stand on his own, and Negan laughs before a hand presses against his nape and shoves him forward.

His cum is already cooling, slick against his cheek and matting in his beard, but Jesus doesn’t care about the musky scent filling his nose and painting his lips. He just spreads his legs, tilts his hips, and waits for his reward.


	5. Leather - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second part of the 'leather' prompt!

"You've got a thing for leather, don't you?"

Negan tilts his head and grins, sharp and dangerous. Jesus huffs and tries to shift his arms, but they're bound pretty tightly in the prayer position; tucked up under his chin while thick, jagged strips of leather keep his arms tight against his chest. The knots rest against his spine, and if he was by himself he could probably come up with a way to get free.

If he really wanted to.

"I don't recall asking whether you gave a shit, little slut," Negan says cheerfully. He gets off on this, on having Jesus bound and kneeling like a worshiper at his feet. Jesus has met men like Negan before, has fought them and showed them their place in his regards. With Negan, though, he can't help himself. He _hates_ how weak and needy he becomes at the arch of an eyebrow and the crooked twist of a smirk – how eagerly he'll fall to his knees for _Daddy_.

God but he loves it just as much, though. He rubs his cheek eagerly against the man's groin and whimpers when he nuzzles at the zipper of his Daddy's new leather coat. The old one is done, cut into thick strips that stand out darkly against Jesus' paler skin. They're the reminder of Negan's power, that his Daddy owns Jesus in a way no one has ever come close to, and it makes him moan when he feels the next strip tickle against the top knob of his spine.

"Head up, boy. Daddy's nowhere close to done with you yet."

Tipping his head back, Jesus tries to glare. He knows he's failing, knows his cheeks are flushed and his eyes are glassy, and when the leather tightens around his throat he gasps at the implication.

Two quick loops to thicken the makeshift collar, to make it impossible to ignore, and his Daddy finishes by knotting it at his nape and letting his hair cover it. Jesus shudders hard enough that his muscles strain against his leather confines, the lines pressing hard into his flesh, and after a token struggle he slumps back onto his heels and licks his wet, open mouth.

"Look at you. Just like a present on Christmas morning." Negan grips a handful of his hair and forces his head back, making the leather tighten against his Adam's apple until he keens. "Bet I could do anything to you right now and you'd just beg me for more, wouldn't you." When Jesus doesn't answer, too lost in his overwhelming emotions, a sharp slap at his burning cheek brings his focus back. "Don't check out on me now, slut. We're having so much _fun_."

"Please," Jesus whispers. He doesn't know what else to say, too lost to _need_ , and when Negan cocks his head to the side, his dark eyes gleaming, he opens his mouth for his Daddy and lays his tongue against his lower lip.

"There we go. Thought you'd never ask."

Jesus takes the last few rough strips of leather with a whine, biting into them and bowing his head for Negan so they can be tied tightly at the back of his skull. His hair catches in the knots and pulls, another shudder making his shoulders shake, and the last few sparks flicker and die as he surrenders to his worship of the devil before him.


	6. Devil Worship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For GreatestDead, who requested "devil worshiping" as a prompt.
> 
> So... here you go!

" _Jesus fucking Christ_."

"Seems a bit blasphemous to curse yourself, don't you think?" The man standing over him grins, head cocked to the side and sharp teeth bared in a cruel, eager grin. Paul can't even bring himself to retort – not that he would dare to, not when his Master is doing him such a wonderful favor.

"Please," he pants raggedly, his nails ripping against the cold concrete floor as he scrabbles frantically for something, _anything_ , to hold onto. "Please, Master, please, _deeper_."

"Yeah? Think you can take it, boy? Think you _deserve_ it?"

The Devil hunkers down beside him, careless nails scraping down his bare spine until they're just brushing against his stretched, swollen rim. The blunted point of the Fallen's tail curls and writhes inside him like a sinuous snake, jabbing his prostate again and again until Paul is screaming hoarsely and splattering another load of cum against the thick lines painted on the ground.

"Thank you, Master," he sobs, looking up with watery blue eyes. The Devil bares his teeth in another grin, darkness swirling across his eyes and his fingers as unforgiving as iron and steel when he grips the human’s throat and forces his prehensile tail so deep that Paul feels sick from the pressure and the lust tainting his soul like sticky black tar. It's so _good_ , though, this damnation something he seeks so eagerly as he bows in supplication at Satan's feet and longs for any touch he can get.

Here, on his scraped and bleeding knees in his basement, in the middle of a hastily-made summoning circle, he bows his spine and spreads his legs, begging endlessly for the touch he had so long been starved of before the first time he accidentally summoned Lucifer and offered himself to the Devil as recompense.

"You might just be my fucking favorite; you know that?" The demon who masquerades as a man laughs and presses two fingers in alongside his tail, the new pressure making Paul's vision dim and his insides burn from the scorching heat of the Fallen who rules Hell with a bloodthirsty ruthlessness that makes even the strongest angels quiver in fear. "So fucking eager, you little slut. C'mon, show me how much you love your Master."

"So much," he sobs, rocking back against every drive of the tail carving a place for itself deep inside of him. "I love you so much, Master. Have me, have everything. I give you all of it."

"Aw, all for me? How sweet, Jesus. Not very holy, but definitely thoughtful."

There is nothing holy about this, but Paul doesn't care. This is his own brand of worship, bending to his Master's will and praying over the hot sear of Satan's cum on his tongue the way a Christian would pray over the pages of their bible. This is his God, his Lord, and he would never choose otherwise.


	7. Panties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesus has a kink, and Negan finds out.
> 
> Panty kink, y'all.

The panties are a little too snug, cutting lines into the swell of his ass and cupping his dick a little too tightly, but the picture it creates, the dark navy silk standing out so starkly against his pale skin, leaves _nothing_ to the imagination.

Jesus whimpers and sucks at the tips of his fingers, his other hand dropping to hover over the caged bulge of his swollen, throbbing cock. Every shift brushes the warmed silk over his sensitive skin – makes his hips buck in helpless pleasure and spills more needy sounds from him.

"Well, well, well. Look at you dressing so pretty."

Whirling around, he stares wide-eyed at Negan where he's leaning against the doorjamb. The bigger man is smirking, arms crossed over his chest, and Jesus shudders at the heat he can see in those dark, glittering eyes. An embarrassed flush heats his cheeks, his shoulders twitching and his muscles tensing.

"Fuck you," he whispers shakily, because _no one_ was ever supposed to see this, especially not _this_ man. Negan is dark and cruel, playing his games unashamedly and ruining the lives of anyone who tries to stand against him. Jesus knows he shouldn't want this, he _knows_ how fucked up it makes him that he _does_ , and he's trembling from the combination of lust and nerves when the man who wields death in the form of a barbed-wire-wrapped bat uncurls from his relaxed pose and prowls closer like a lion stalking a gazelle.

"Not how this works, sweetheart," he grins. He comes closer and closer, backing Jesus up until his shoulders hit the chilled glass of the mirror and his spine arches. "What, you don't like looking pretty for Daddy? I know how much of a slut you are for a good cock, but I didn't know you were _this_ much of one."

"I'm not a whore," Jesus snaps. He should be fighting back, should be _running_ , but instead he's rolling up into the balls of his feet and spreading his legs. The silk draws tighter against his cock, the wet head slipping free from the band and the pressure making his balls tighten. He whimpers, biting his lower lip, and Negan strikes.

A harsh hand squeezes his ass, fingers worming under the tight edge of the panties and shoving between his clenching cheeks. They press roughly against his eager hole, smearing through the wetness already there. Negan laughs in delight, and Jesus shuts his eyes tightly. He grinds back on the two fingers hooking against his rim and pulling him open, the tightness even worse as the band of the too-tight panties dig into his cock and rub that spot just under the head.

" _Daddy_ ," he sobs, choking on a reedy cry and fisting his hands in the front of the older man's leather jacket as he comes all over his own belly and clenches desperately around the fingers spreading him wide.

"There it is," Negan rumbles. "There we go. Give me all of it, you filthy slut. _Beg_."

"Please, Daddy, fuck me," Jesus obeys eagerly, his hips still bucking and the dark silk of his panties becoming wet and slippery from cum and sweat.

It's so fucking wrong, but maybe that's the appeal of it, because Jesus spreads his legs even wider and takes two more fingers with a desperate keen. He takes everything Negan gives him and hungers for more, because it's wrong, it's _disgusting_ , but no one has ever given him anything _close_ to what his Daddy gives him, and Jesus _loves_ it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to leave a prompt!


	8. Ruination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this in response to a fucking gorgeous picture a friend of mine drew, so here's your daily dose of Negus.
> 
> Jesus should really know better.

**_"Daddy!"_ **

"That's a good boy," Negan growls. His fingers tighten in the younger man's hair, pulling at the strands hard enough to make his scalp ache. Paul moans gutturally, his cock painting the wall in milky droplets. His knuckles are scraped raw and bleeding, his pants around his ankles and his trench coat shoved up to bunch against his lower back. Tears are rolling down his face, his body shaking and too hot from the Virginia heat and the fire licking at his insides. He doesn't soften at all, might even get _harder_ , as his head is wrenched back at a painful angle and Negan's sharp teeth sink into the straining tendons of his neck.

"Fuck, fuck, Daddy, _fuck_!"

The noises are obscene, the pressure is too much, and when Negan bucks forward and rides his ass **hard** , not pulling out even an inch, Paul is certain that this is going to be what kills him.

"Such a perfect, greedy little slut, you know that?" Negan's teeth leave his throbbing throat, the words rumbled against the indentations he's left behind. His lips scrape against trembling skin, a mock brush of tenderness that Paul knows better than to believe. There is nothing tender or _good_ in Negan, nothing redeemable or salvageable from the savage monster the world has helped cement him into.

Paul has no one but himself to blame for this – for being shoved face-first against a grimy, crumbling wall in the middle of the night. Only himself to blame for the taint he had etched into his body and soul the moment he looked at Negan, at his dark sensuality and his black heart, and he had _hated_ and _wanted_ with such ferocity he'd gone cross-eyed.

Negan has killed his friends, has slaughtered the closest thing he had to a family, and yet he's sobbing and arching into every brutal slam of hips against his; barking out keening, broken cries and begging for more like the whore Negan has labeled him.

There's no gentle bracing, no attempt to catch him when his trembling arms give out and his forehead smacks against the wall hard enough to cut him above his eye. The blood runs fast, warm and wet on his face and clumping in his long beard until it's saturated and matted. There is pain and pleasure in equal measure, no give between them – only Negan taking and taking and demanding _more_.

"One more time, slut. Let me hear it."

**_"Daddy, please!"_ **

Negan laughs. "There it fucking is, you greedy little cumwhore. _Take it, bitch_."

And Paul _does_ , mouth open and eyes rolling back, saliva and blood mixing on his tongue and dripping down his chin as his scream shatters into nothing mid-way through, and he comes across the wall again while Negan fills his ass until it's running down his inner thighs.

Broken, claimed, _obedient_. He whimpers through the aftershocks, hating Negan and hating _himself_ , because at the end of the day he can't walk away. He _should_ , but he won't.

Everyone around him will die bloody, and Paul will still be here, sobbing against a brick wall and clenching down on the cock of the man who brought his world to ruin.

" _Again_ ," he begs, and the fingers tighten further in his hair, nails scraping his scalp in a mockery of affection, as Negan begins his destruction anew.


	9. Scream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For mine sissy, AmbecaWatson, who asked so nicely for Jesus being fucked until he screamed. It ain't that long, but hopefully I accomplished the goal. <3

"C'mon, I know you can be louder than that."

 

A harsh thrust knocks Jesus' head into the thick wooden headboard, a mangled scream spilling from his overworked throat that gets lost in the sweat-damp pillow his cheek is smashed against. Negan’s palm is hot against the side of his face, fingers digging to his temple and forehead - a pinky teasing at the corner of his wet mouth. The man has been fucking him for hours, pulling so many orgasm from him that the pleasure is mostly shadowed by the pain of oversensitivity.

 

"That all you got?" Negan mocks him as the head of his cock nails Jesus' prostate and makes his muscles size from the pain-pleasure of it. There isn't a goddamn drop of cum left in him, all of it splattered across the sheets beneath him. His knees are rubbed raw and probably bruised, and he can taste a hint of blood that tells him his throat is starting to actually sustain damage. His ass is tender and sore, it's too much, and yet he fists the blankets weakly and rolls back again and again, spearing himself on Negan's cock and panting harshly as he tries to find his words.

 

"Please," he rasps, barely audible and painful enough to make fresh tears spill down his cheeks. "Please, Daddy, more. I love it, I love it so much."

 

"I know you do," the man behind him sneers. A solid smack against his left ass cheek makes Paul jerk and clench down, and his shout crescendos into another ragged scream. Negan grabs his long hair and yanks his head back; spits on the side of his face and fucks back in again and again, harder and harder each time, until Jesus forgets that words exist. All he can do is reach back desperately, scrambling for something - _anything_ \- to hold on to as his screams reverberate on the walls and mingle with the dark, delighted sound of Negan's laughter.


	10. Pup

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for Noonesangel_noonesbitch, mine sweet anneth over at Rickyl Writers' Group. She asked politely for puppy play, and here it is!

A rough hand strokes through his hair, and Jesus whines happily. He nuzzles calloused fingers that always smell faintly of blood; licks over knuckles ruined after years of ensuring loyalty through violence.

 

"You're a happy pup today, huh," Negan chuckles. Jesus wriggles and whines, feeling the way his plug nudges against his inner walls and the soft fur of his tail brushes the insides of his thighs. He play-bows for his Master, his hind end high in the air and his chin against the floor as he looks adoringly up at the man who is his entire world. Negan's grin is sharp and dangerous, but the violence in him is tempered for the moment as he reaches to pick up the leather leash waiting on the table.

 

"Ready for your walk then, sweetheart?"

 

Jesus yips eagerly and scrambles toward the door, his cock bobbing between his legs and his tail tucking up against his balls when he sits on it by accident. The tags on his collar jangle merrily, a rabies heart (because his Master has a cruel sense of humor) clinking against a black bone with _Negan's Bitch_ carved messily onto the one side.

 

"Daddy's good pup. Look at you, so eager to show off." Negan clips the leash to the thick ring on his collar and kicks open the door, showing the compound beyond his house. People are bustling about, but no one stares when Jesus crawls out on all fours and starts sniffing around. They all know better.

 

Negan jerks on the leash, snapping Jesus' devoted attention back to him immediately. "Let's walk, pup. And if you're good, then we'll play."

 

Panting excitedly, Jesus feels his cock filing enough to be noticeable as he crawls along behind Negan; his ass wiggling enough to make his faux tail look like it's wagging. It might seem degrading and wrong, but he's never found a more peaceful existence than being his Master's obedient pup.


	11. Betrayal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For a Guest, who asked for Hilltop finding out about Jesus and Negan and throwing Jesus out.
> 
> Here, have some angsty porn. ;u;

It was inevitable that someone would find out. Jesus did his best to hide it - he was fucking the enemy frequently, after all - but there was only so much time before the truth came out. He's lucky they didn't try to kill him, although Daryl looked ready to give it his best attempt. He was lucky all they did was banish him from Hilltop, and Jesus had prepared for that inevitability months ago.

 

There's no surprise on Negan's face when he opens the door. The trademark smirk is firmly in place - the cocky angle of his head that makes Jesus want to fall to his knees and punch the psychopath in the face simultaneously.

 

"Come on in," Negan chuckles, and Jesus walks past him with a small duffel slung over his shoulder. He drops it and strips in record time; kicks off his boots and bends over the table without a word. He reaches back and spreads himself open, baring the gape of his hole to Negan's hungry gaze. There's still cum dripping out of him, and he whines low in his throat when he feels rough, gloved fingers stretching him even wider.

 

"This how ya wanna deal with it?" The man is reveling in his victory, and Jesus closes his eyes to focus on the feeling of the careless fingers pumping in and out of him. He forgets about the betrayed look on his friends' faces and moans weakly when Negan's fingers crook and batter at his sensitive prostate.

 

"Make me forget, Daddy," Jesus begs around a sob, and the cock that slips in far easier than it should makes him relax back into every punishing, possessive thrust. He loses himself in all of it, ignoring the tears that drip from his lashes and splatter against the table beneath him.

 

"Looks like your mine forever, now," Negus purrs in his ear. Jesus nods and moans louder, sweeter - feeling himself piece back together into what he's always been for Negan as the fresh memories of his betrayal lay shattered at their feet.


	12. Possessive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also for a Guest, and also for lucdarling, who both requested Negan being possessive/protective of Jesus. Somehow I forgot the last part, made it 'possessive', and turned it into this. So, ah, I hope y'all still like it!

"I fuckin' told you what I'd do if ya kept doin' this shit."

 

The slap against his hole makes Jesus choke on a moan, his wrists twisting in the ropes that wrap all the way up his arms. There's no way for him to get out of this rope work, and he relishes Negan's eye for detail and his knowledge of just how to keep Jesus exactly where he wants him.

 

"M'sorry, Daddy," Jesus groans, lying through his teeth and grinning when Negan snarls and slaps him harder. The pain and pleasure make his caged cock twitch, trying to fill but denied until Jesus is so wound up between arousal and frustration that tears leak from his eyes.

 

"If you were sorry, you little slut, you'd stop teasin' and offering yourself to _pigs_."

 

Gregory has taken a lot from Jesus, all in the name of keeping him in line. His advances, while not entirely wanted, had kept Jesus fed and ensured a roof over his head when he needed it. As disgusting as he found the greedy, boorish man, letting Gregory think he had a hold over the younger survivor had worked in Jesus' favor. He doesn't see the harm in flirting to keep up appearances.

 

Negan is a possessive Master though, and he's got eyes and ears everywhere. Part of the fun of Jesus letting other men look and touch is knowing how furious it will make the dangerous, unhinged leader that reminds him frequently of a rabid tiger.

 

The next crack lands between his cheeks again, stinging his greedy hole, and Jesus bites back his needy, desperate begs. He holds off until that thick, _addictive_ cock is inside of him; until Negan sets a punishing pace that turns his insides to liquid fire and breaks the dam on his words.

 

"Yes, yes, Daddy, please!"

 

"Please what, little slut?" Negan growls in his ear.

 

"Show me, show me who I belong to. Show _everyone_."

 

"I plan on it," the man hisses. He thrusts again and rides Jesus' ass, not pulling out so much as an inch and enjoying the sight of Jesus choking on his own spit as his eyes roll back in his head. "When I'm done with this ass, no one will dare to touch you. You're _my_ slut, and you'd best remember that."

 

Jesus can only nod, whining and fucking back as best he can as the cage around his swelling cock adds an addictive kind of pain that makes him grit his teeth and take what Negan gives him – as desperate as always for more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to keep prompting, guys!


	13. Depravity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was seriously supposed to be a stand-alone, but right now it's not letting me post it as one, sooooo..... here y'all go. I'll fix it later.

The display windows have long since been broken, the glass ground to dust beneath uncaring heels, but the mannequins are still standing - still clothed in skimpy lace and dusty silk. There's a black lace set and a white silk one, and one fake lady wearing a polka dot bra and matching bikini panties that look like they're cotton. They're pretty, but it's the lace Jesus is halted by - the dark front and back panels and the thin, skimpy silk ribbons laced down the sides to show an attractive flash of a plastic hip that makes his mouth dry and his abdomen clench. His fingers spasm around the straps of his duffle bag, and he grips them even tighter to keep it from falling.

 

The mall is silent and dead around him, not even the rasping hiss and snarl of dead ones present to add a soundtrack of chaos and death in this new world. Any monsters that had been lurking in the shadows are dead again, the coagulated blood decorating his boots and speckled across his face and the bandana protecting his mouth and nose. Pale blue eyes glitter as he stares at the lingerie waiting for approving glances that will never come again - an immortal monument of Before in a crumbling world where the dead ones vastly outnumber the living.

 

There's no one else with him. There hasn't been for a while, and right now, he's almost grateful. No prying eyes watch him as he steps toward the abandoned store, but he still glances around quickly before slipping inside. The displays are tempting enough, but the sheer amount of lingerie he finds even just inside the door forces him to take slow, even breaths. He can feel desire singing along his nerves - a deep, dark need that tightens his core and makes his breathing rougher despite his best efforts as he slowly takes in his options with hungry, roving eyes.

 

Jesus is fully aware that he's got some unorthodox views. He's far from the good, sweet Catholic boy his mother had tried to raise, and it had brought her no small amount of shame. She'd loved him, and she'd sworn she always would, but she'd also told him repeatedly, in many different ways, that she didn't have to like his choices to love his soul. He'd tried to be a good son to her, but once humanity started dying off in droves, he'd wondered the point of keeping himself contained for the sake of others when they were just going to try eating him tomorrow anyway.

 

Now, with no one to scold him or look upon him with shame, he wanders through the store and touches the various materials. The silk slides between his thumb and pointer finger and makes him shudder at the thought of it rubbing against more sensitive areas. The lace catches on the calluses on his fingertips and makes him bite his lip. It's all pretty - the cotton is too plain for his depravity, but the colors and designs are nice enough.

 

His eyes keep flicking toward the mannequin in the display window, to the lace and silk ribbon and the overall image it creates. There's some of that kind on tables just behind the window, and he walks toward it with deliberately careful steps. There are no dead ones to stumble out of the corners at him, but years of training in various forms of combat arts have taught him to walk quietly no matter what. Even his father's old trench coat barely makes a sound as the tails flutter around his calves. The only sound he's making is the quick, harsh rasp of his breathing as his cock throbs and his trembling fingers reach out to hook in one loop of silk ribbon. He lifts the panties up and looks at them, his head tilted slightly while his teeth dig harder into his lower lip.

 

 _Fuck_ , all he can think about is how they'll look wrapped around his hips - how the silk will cut dark stripes over his paler skin and the lace will provide just that hint of scratchy roughness against his cradled cock. He can't quite manage to swallow down the strangled noise that slips past his gritted teeth. He flushes from head to toe, his throat pricking and his cheeks turning red as his pupils blow wide and eat the blue with a voracious hunger that's echoed through the rest of him like ripples traveling over a pond. His body heats up and the shameless _need_ curls tighter in his lower abdomen, stripping away his inhibitions.

 

The duffle bag hits the ground with a thud, his coat following swiftly. He drops the panties back on the table long enough to unbuckle his belt and strip out of his clothes like he's being timed on how quickly he can get naked. The cool air kisses his overheated skin, making his cock twitch. A pale drop pearls at the tip, and he wipes it away slowly just for the feeling that makes him shudder all the way down to his soles. Sucking the droplet from his thumb, he whines and closes his eyes. He forces himself to take a moment to compose himself, even if it's an impossible task.

 

He has to give in too soon, too eager to wait, and the lace drags against the grain of his hair. It rubs against his skin, the barest slip of the silk straps a different sensation, and the combination builds his anticipation. The high is better than besting a foe in a fight, better than each new day he greets still warm and breathing. His whine is unrestrained, and as shameful as it might be, his knees buckle and he hits the ground with a loud, ragged breath. As soon as the panties are in place, the lace scratchy over his cock and fitting snugly against the length - cradling his hypersensitive testicles and offering new sensations with every shift - he comes with a choked-off whimper.

 

His spine bows; his legs spreading and his hair sticking to his sweaty back. It's almost embarrassing, but without anyone here to look at him, his secret is safe. Just the thought of being on display like that though, of being looked over by a pair of hungry, burning eyes, makes his fists clench against the cold, dirty floor. He pants through the aftershocks, feeling weak and overwhelmed and so fucking unsatisfied. As incredible as it is - as great as the panties feel rubbing against his wet skin as he slowly sits back on his haunches - the need is barely sated. His orgasm was stronger than he'd anticipated it being, leaving him trembling faintly as the receding swell of pleasure starts to roll and crest like waves beating against his bones.

 

"Shit," he hisses, his long hair hiding his face when his head drops forward to see the mess he's made of himself. He touches the front of the panties, his fingers coming away wet and his cock barely softened at all. He sucks them clean, closing his eyes and nudging all three a little deeper until his gag reflex kicks in and his hips buck in response. His cock pulses, the throb in his belly making him whine, and he takes one final moment to gather himself before rising on shaky legs and reaching for his discarded shirt.

 

He catches sight of a dust-covered mirror near one of the store displays and pauses.  It's probably for women to hold the panties up and see what they'd look like against their clothes - something to help their mind picture themselves naked but for the delicate lace and silk; draping themselves suggestively across the bed or the couch to wait for their lover to come home.

 

Jesus is already in front of one before he can think about it, wiping away the layers of dust and leaving streaks through the cleared spot. They don't really do anything to distort the image as he steps back and takes an eager moment to look at himself - admiring the black lace panels against his lighter skin and turning to see the silk ribbons cutting stark, elegant paths over his thighs and hips. His cock tents the front obscenely, pearly droplets of cum wet between his legs and dripping down toward his knees. He slips his fingers back into his mouth just to see, and the picture he makes darkens his cheeks again as his cock twitches in its snug confines. The panties are just slightly too small, but the image that it creates is one that's going to fuel his fantasies for _weeks_ to come.

 

 _Pun fucking intended_ , he thinks with a snort. As much as he'd love to tuck himself away in a safe spot and enjoy his newfound kink, he's still got hours of daylight to burn, and plenty of stops to make to scavenge for anything that might sustain him or better his chances of survival. He's just one man, but Jesus has always been practical. If he finds enough supplies, he can hole himself up somewhere and rest before the ever-present threat of the reanimated dead forces him to keep moving.

 

Shrugging into his shirt, he takes one last look at himself in the mirror - soiled panties and dirty blue button-up hanging open to show his narrow chest and hips, and his flat stomach. He's not a bodybuilder by any means - he's too lean and light. He's stronger than he looks though, and _fast_. It's how he's managed to stay alive for so long while everyone else he knew fell beneath gnashing teeth and bloody, grabbing fingers.

 

Trying to savor the last dregs of his desire before he banishes them, he slowly starts to button his shirt. He should take the panties off, because cold cum and scratchy lace are not going to feel too good for very long, but he's desperate to hold onto whatever he can. Once he's out of the mall, he'll change quickly. For now, his hungry eyes search for the flashes of black every time his shirt shifts or lifts up as he puts himself back into some semblance of order.

 

Maybe it's because he's so distracted - maybe it's because he's listening for the distinctive sound of something dead finding it's way to him and he doesn't hear it. Either way, he has no one to blame but himself when he sees a flash of darkness move behind him and feels the smooth, rounded tip of something press against the middle of his back.

 

"Now, why would you cover somethin' that pretty up?"

 

The voice is low and jovial, and rich with a darkness that rumbles as it slams into Jesus' instincts. Alarm bells blare, something cold searing down his spine, and every fiber of him screams _danger_. He reacts before thinking it through; whirls around and kicks out, aiming to subdue quickly and escape while the man is trying to recover. A hand catches his ankle, gripping hard enough to hurt, and his only thought is _shit_ , _he's fast_ before he's flipped and slammed into the ground hard enough to knock his chin against the floor.

 

Blood fills his mouth, dribbling out past his lips as pain explodes through his skull. He's still fighting, writhing and kicking and snarling, until a broad, heavy hand slaps against the side of his head and pins him in place. The floor is cold against his cheek, some kind of debris digging in along his jaw. He's still snarling and spitting like an angry alley cat, determined to free himself, but a formidable weight settles over his hips and takes that option away - at least for now. Thick thighs bracket his narrow hips and squeeze, a hot groin grinding against his lace-covered ass as the assailant rolls with his movements to keep from getting thrown. The man is laughing, sounding gleeful and rabid in tandem, and Jesus stops struggling to pant harshly and glare from the corner of his eye as his hair is raked out of the way and he gets his first look at the man straddling him.

 

He sees black hair and dark, glittering eyes; a smattering of gray in the neat, slick-backed strands that peppers through his short, full beard. Those eyes are manic, bright with an insanity that was tended to long before society fell apart. Now it's been left unchecked, growing wild and making the air around the stranger crackle with a coldness that leaves Jesus shuddering. He knows a bigger predator when he sees one. Here, in this situation, he's nothing but a mangy, hungry jackal pinned beneath the paw of a regal, powerful lion. Now the question is - will the lion maim him and let him go to let him die elsewhere, or will he play with his toy before snapping its neck once he's bored?

 

The most unfair thing about it all is that the man is attractive enough to be nearly sinful; his broad shoulders filling out his sleek leather jacket and tapering into a strong waist. He knows what he looks like, but Jesus can tell by the smear of gore on his cheek and the loose grip on the bloody bat he's holding off to the side that he doesn't need to use his looks to get what he wants. He uses fear and violence, his power assured and his aesthetic features an afterthought wielded more to ensure conquests than gain loyalty.

 

It's one thing to look the part of a rabid king - it's the charisma and the eagerness to prove how far you're willing to go _no matter the cost_ that keeps your followers fearfully loyal. It makes Jesus wonder if the blood on the bat is from a dead one, or a timid peasant that outlived their usefulness to their ruler.

 

"Let me go," he growls, struggling to get any leverage he can manage. If he can roll, or if he bucks hard enough to displace the man's weight, he can get free and get to his weapons. The stranger must sense his intent, or he's just better at subduing his prey, because he shifts and bears down until Jesus goes limp with a frustrated hiss.

 

"Now why would I do that, pretty boy?" His voice is low and amused - deep and rumbling in ways that would have made Jesus weak in a different situation. In a dark, smoky bar, with a man like this sliding up beside him and grinning crookedly, he'd have ended up scraping his palms raw on a back alley wall and moaning desperately while a thick cock fucked into him again and again.

 

His body still remembers those nights, trembling reflexively when the man's groin presses firmly against the swell of his ass. He can feel the heavy cock caged behind layers of denim and cotton - can almost imagine it sliding between his cheeks without the barrier of the lace, and he shudders noticeably.

 

"I'd say it doesn't feel like you want me to move at all." There's a quiet laugh, and then the brush of lips against the shell of his ear and the heat of a breath whispering over the side of his face. This close, he can see the unholy gleam in the man's dark eyes; the almost unnatural sharpness of his canine teeth when he grins wide enough to show them. "You got a name, sweetheart?"

 

"Everyone's got a fucking name," Jesus spits. He tries to get his hands underneath his chest, but his arms are wrenched behind him as soon as he shifts up. The bat clatters to the ground, and he grunts as fingers tighten around his wrists in warning.

 

"Got a mouth on you, huh? Always liked the fuckin' feisty ones." The hands shift, one spanning both of his wrists easily while the other tangles in his hair and yanks his head back. "Go ahead, pretty thing. Lemme hear those words."

 

"The fuck you want, asshole?" Glaring, Jesus flexes his hands to test just how strong the hold on him is. He's never been one to give up easily, but he's barely dressed and his opponent is a lot larger than him. That wouldn't normally be an issue, but the way the man is pressed against him, rocking leisurely against his ass, is clouding his mind in a way he can't afford. The lace rubs roughly against his skin, his hips raising to try and relieve the pressure and avoid grinding his cock against the unforgiving ground. He tries his hardest to stifle his noise as he feels the hardening cock press harder against him, but a gasp slips through the cracks of his clenched teeth and the man on top of him laughs.

 

"You're a dirty little slut, aren't you?"

 

"Fuck you," Jesus growls. "Get the hell off me."

 

"And miss out on the show?" The man's voice drops even lower, scraping roughly against Jesus' fraying nerves and making his cock throb. He's distracted enough by the low, sultry timber of the purr that buzzes against his ear that he doesn't notice the rope being tied around his wrists. That's his second mistake, and he once again realizes it too late.

 

"Mother _fucker_ ," he snarls as he's rolled over onto his back. Laying on his arms forces his spine to arch, presenting his chest and pulling the open gap of his shirt snug against the skin that's still bared. He only got the damn thing buttoned half-way before this man showed up; the bottom tails parting to showcase the bulge of his cock in the panties. The lace is straining, offering shadowy peeks of what it's hiding away, and he blushes from the shame and embarrassment he'd so easily ignored before. There's also the first licks of arousal that are growing again; the desire fueled by the heat from watching those dark eyes rake over his body. The look is nothing short of predatory and pleased, and Jesus rolls his hips up with a quiet sound before he can reason with himself. Every part of this is a bad idea that could very well end in his gruesome death, but the adrenaline and his fucking love of flirting with danger is starting to overpower his mind.

 

"Actually, it's Negan," the man - _Negan_ \- chuckles darkly. "Or God, if you want. What about you, pretty boy? Gonna share with the class?"

 

"Paul." It's quiet and shaky; he'll hate himself for this later, he knows it, but the specimen above him is just the right kind of sexy and insane to effectively cloud his rationality. "Friends called me Jesus," he adds, and Negan laughs in a way that makes him want to squirm.

 

"The amount of blasphemy going on right now is delicious, kid, I'm not gonna lie." Those sharp teeth flash in another grin as one of Negan's large hands slips between his legs. "Jesus wearin' panties and as wet as a woman. Is that what's goin' on here? Dirty little slut needs somethin' in his hungry little pussy?"

 

It should _not_ be a turn on, but Jesus can't bite back the whine at those words, or stop the way his hips buck and his cock twitches. He pants quietly, glaring up at Negan defiantly, and the man laughs before two thick fingers are forcing their way past his teeth. He should bite down on them as hard as he can, but he can still see the bat from the corner of his eye. That, and the tang of flavors Negan's fingers smear across his tongue, is enough to make him moan loudly as he sucks.

 

"Look at you, sneaking around in a mall lookin' to get wrecked by whatever big man finds you," Negan growls as he hooks a finger in the waistband of the panties and snaps them against Jesus' skin. It sparks pleasure through him and he sucks harder, hollowing his cheeks and moaning as the thick, talanted fingers massaging his tongue force their way further back. He gags when they go too far too fast, tilting his head and opening his throat for the next time, and Negan's rumble is deep and appreciative.

 

"Guess you _are_ a whore, aren't you?"

 

Negan palms Jesus' cock, his hand so large and radiating heat that sinks into his hypersensitive flesh and burns in a way nothing else ever has. When he squeezes, Jesus hurtles over the edge without realizing he was even that close. His mouth slacks open, his head falls back, and he sobs through the orgasm as his body undulates and fresh strips of warm cum fill the panties and seep through the material. Negan watches, his lips hitched crookedly into a triumphant grin that makes him look even more roguish and gorgeous. It's almost not fair, but Jesus is far beyond caring as he spreads his legs wider for the man to trace cum-covered fingers down behind his balls and nudge the lace aside. The tips swirl against his aching hole, and he realizes got the first time how fucking empty and desperate he is.

 

It's hard to think about intimacy when he's literally running for his life every single day - hard to remember the last time he ever warmed someone's bedroll or had another body in his after the fall of humanity. Now, hidden away in an abandoned mall, writhing against the floor as a strange, potentially murderous man's fingers nudge further past his spasming rim, Jesus doesn't know what there is to fight about. Every man and woman alive has to do despicable things to _stay_ alive now - what's a moment of rough passion between strangers?

 

"Please," he keens, the last of his resistance crumbling away as he tries to rock down onto the fingers opening him up. It's been long enough that there's a burn, and the lack of lubrication makes it a little less pleasant, but he does his best to relax and accept them into his greedy, touch-starved body.

 

"Yeah? You like it rough, slut? Like Daddy's fingers fucking that tight little pussy until it's sloppy and gaping?"

 

" _Fucking_ _Christ_ ," Jesus hisses. He doesn't even think about it, too frantic to work past the pain as the fingers inside of him start to scissor and curl. Negan's comeback is right on point, his laugh deep and his fingers clever as they curl _just_ _right_ and nail Jesus' prostate with so much pressure it rips a scream from his throat.

 

"Not quite yet, my little slut. But I'm about to."

 

" _Please_ ," he sobs raggedly, his shoulders burning and his arms aching as he arches to try and get pressure on his bound wrists. His bare feet scrabble against the floor, desperate for something to brace against and let him get the leverage he needs to properly ride the fingers fucking in and out of him.

 

"Roll over and let Daddy see that pussy. Wanna see how desperate it is for me."

 

The fingers leave, lace sliding back into place, and Jesus rolls as quickly as he can. There's no shame tinting his lust and all-consuming _need_ now as he presents himself; face down and ass high in the air for inspection. He pants hotly against the floor, trying to gather some form of control, before glancing back at the man crouched between his spread knees.

 

"As pretty as this is, these slutty little things are hiding what I wanna see." Negan snaps the waistband of the panties again, watching him jerk and whimper. Jesus squirms, curling and uncurling his fingers, and waits until he feels nails scratching against his hips. He's expecting Negan to rip them down his thighs, maybe leave them bunched just below what he's looking for. The man rips right through them instead, scraps of soiled black lace falling away from him and baring his ass and greedy hole to Negan's eyes.

 

"Look at that pussy, so ready for Daddy's cock. You ain't nearly wet enough though, sweetheart. Think you can take it anyway?"

 

"Can take anything you dish out," Jesus hisses. "Just fuckin' do it, god, _please_."

 

Negan spits right on his hole, and Jesus comes with a ragged moan. It fucking _hurts_ , his cock bobbing and spurting weak streams of cum that splatter against his belly and drip from his matted pubic hair. Coming so much in so little time isn't something he's done in a while, and he knows Negan is nowhere near being done with him yet.

 

Another mouthful of spit lands against his skin, and Negan reaches underneath him to swipe up a bit more cum before using the combination to work three fingers back inside him. The stretch and burn aren't as intense - it gives his pleasure just enough of a damper that he can build up to the next orgasm rather than hurtling toward it without pause. Jesus is shaking like a sapling in a storm, his words stripped from him as his muscles spasm through the aftershocks. His shoulders feel like they're on fire, his arms cramping, and he whines weakly.

 

Before he can say anything, Negan unties him with his free hand and grabs a fistful of his hair to pull his head back again. "All you had to do was ask, little slut. Can't even think straight though, can you? Need it too badly. You want my cock?"

 

" _Yes_ ," Jesus moans, nodding and trying to shove back onto the man's fingers to keep them from ever leaving. "Please, it's not enough. I need more."

 

"That pussy needs a nice, big cock filling it, huh? Gonna ask nicely?" Negan stills his hand and lets Jesus do all the work - curls his fingers just enough to nudge over the younger man's prostate with every buck back. He falls apart under the onslaught of sensations, hypersensitive after so long without any touch that wasn't his own. It's been a long time since he was with a partner like Negan. He almost forgot what a dominant, rough voice and experienced hands could do to him.

 

"Fuck me," he begs.

 

"I didn't hear a please. Why don't you try again? Ask Daddy nicely; he can't read your mind. You wanna be Daddy's slutty boy?"

 

"God, yes, please." Nodding frantically when his hair is freed, Jesus braces his aching hands against the ground and looks back over his shoulder. Negan arches an eyebrow over lust-black eyes, waiting, and he whines. "Please, Daddy, fuck your slutty boy. Need your cock. _Please_."

 

"Where do you need my cock?" Negan prompts.

 

"In my pussy," Jesus whimpers obediently. God, it shouldn't be making him nearly this hot, but he already feels so close to coming that it _aches_. He shouldn't be getting off on this kind of degradation, but he _is_ , and when he feels the wet head of Negan's cock nudge against his loosened hole, he fucks back onto it without hesitation.

 

Shit, Negan is _big_. He feels bigger than Jesus had anticipated, stretching him to the point he doesn't know if he'll be able to handle it. He grits his teeth and rocks his hips, whining and trying to relax as much as he can to make it easier. Negan rests a hand against his lower back, pushing his sweat-damp shirt up to let the cooler air brush against his overheated skin. Jesus whines at the temperature change, shivering and letting his mouth drop open to gasp and pant hotly as Negan rocks a little further into him before pulling out. With just the tip resting inside his rim, his muscles tightening around it to try and keep the feeling of being filled, he looks back hopefully. Negan grins, tilting his head to the side.

 

"More?"

 

"All of it," Jesus groans. "Please, Daddy, _all_ _of_ _it_."

 

"Sure thing, baby. Better hold onto somethin' though."

 

Jesus barely has time to brace his hands against the wall in front of him before Negan thrusts forward and his cock slams the rest of the way home. He's so fucking big - Jesus is so fucking _full._ Drool drips from his wide-open mouth as he screams silently, his entire body convulsing and his cock pumping out a few more weak threads of cum. His balls ache - hell, _all_ of him hurts in some way. He's going to have bruises, he's probably torn, but when Negan starts moving all of his concerns crash through the window with the sound of shattering glass and broken reservations.

 

"Please, fucking _move_ ," he rasps out weakly. He can barely even form the words, coherency nothing but a memory as Negan grabs his hips and hauls him back onto the most impressive cock he's ever had the honor of taking.

 

"Such a nice pussy," Negan rumbles against the back of his shoulder. Jesus whimpers and claws at the grime-covered wall in front of him, searching for something his nails can dig into so he can hold on better. It doesn't even matter when Negan sits back and pulls Jesus onto his lap. He scrambles to keep the man's cock inside of him, unwilling to lose even a centimeter until he's settled and he can roll his hips desperately, repeatedly - sobbing out jumbled, half-formed pleas as he reaches back to fist a hand in Negan's hair and ruin it just a little.

 

Teeth dig into his skin, and Jesus keens out a thin, reedy sound as the hips he's constantly rocking down against buck up. His prostate gets nailed with so much pressure his vision blurs. His beard feels saturated with his drool, so much leaking from his mouth that he couldn't swallow it all back down even if he tried. He's amazed no dead ones have heard him and come looking for an easy meal, but they've been lucky so far.

 

"More, more, more; gods Daddy please I need more," he sobs breathily. His rhythm is shot to pieces, his muscles twitching uncontrollably and his cock slapping uselessly between his thighs with every bounce up and down on the thick, slick cock that's spearing into him over and over again. He already feels addicted, craving the sweet pleasure of the burn as it carves a place for itself inside of him and forces his muscles to obey.

 

Negan is a man that demands obedience. He handles submission with the same ease Jesus has already seen him handle his bat. He was a man born to lead, but not a man who would do it sanely. His followers would either be fearful or just as bloodthirsty as him, and Jesus wants no part of that. Right here and right now though, he wants _everything_. After this, he'll slip away - or fight tooth and nail to break free.

 

"Daddy," he whines. "Please, want it."

 

"Want what?" The man bares bloody teeth against his throat in a wild grin. Jesus can feel the hot, life-giving liquid slip down his back between them, the pain a barely-felt wound as he drowns under everything else. "Want Daddy to fill that desperate little pussy with my cum? You're so wet already, and _still_ not satisfied. Want it dripping out of that gaping hole, don't you?"

 

Jesus whines softly and nods. He digs his nails into Negan's scalp, pawing at his own hips and seizing up when his palm rubs against his overstimulated cock. It gives him one last dribble of pale white liquid, and his rippling internal muscles make Negan snarl.

 

A shove sends him sprawling forward, his arms too weak to hold him. Jesus pants and whimpers as his calves spasm and his hole clenches desperately around nothing. He manages to push himself up, his arms trembling and his face wet from tears he hadn't even noticed when he tilts his head up to watch Negan. The man is standing, a fist flying up and down his cock as he watches the ruination he has brought. He's grinning manically, his eyes glittering; Jesus closes his eyes and opens his mouth willingly to receive the first bitter drops of cum that splash across his tongue. He lets himself be marked, more strings dripping from his beard and landing in stripes over his closed eyes.

 

Droplets weigh down his eyelashes, feeling warm and smelling musky when he breathes in. Licking some from his mouth, he swallows and whines; cracks his eyes open to look at the hard, hot cock standing proudly in front of him. Leaning forward and sealing his lips around the tip, he sucks the last few drips from the slit and sinks further down on it until he can't take anymore. Fingers comb through his sweaty hair before dropping to rub Negan's claim into his skin.

 

When he can't handle the ache, Jesus pulls back at lets the man's cock slip from his mouth with a wet pop. He sucks the mingling flavors from his own tongue without feeling an ounce of remorse; leaning back against the wall and letting his body cool slowly before he even attempts to get dressed.

 

Negan tucks his cock away and zips his pants back up before crouching down. Jesus watches with barely-open eyes as the man digs a water bottle out of his duffle bag and breaks the seal with a sharp twist before handing it over. He doesn't even try to say thanks before taking it. His throat hurts too much, his mouth drying faster than he'd expected.

 

The water, though tepid, is still wonderfully refreshing. He can't bring himself to conserve any of it, draining the bottle in under a minute and chucking it out of sight as he gasps for breath.

 

"Thanks," he finally grunts. Dropping his heel on the leg of his crumpled jeans, he drags them closer with his boxers and starts putting himself back into some state of normalcy. He doubts the dead ones will care if he looks as absolutely fucked-out as he feels, and there's probably not another living human around for miles; the clothes are more for protection against the eyes burning through him right now.

 

"Goin' it alone, then?" Negan asks with a knowing smirk. Jesus gives him a baleful stare and lets his silence be his answer. The man nods and grabs his bat, swinging the weapon up to brace it against his shoulder. He looks comfortable with it, completely unconcerned with the state of the world around him - and prepared for it at the same time.

 

"Interested in joinin' up with a group? Strength in numbers and all that."

 

"Not even slightly," Jesus mutters. His legs aren't shaking anymore, and he's only slightly shaky when he finally convinces himself to stand up. He walks around the interior perimeter of the store, deliberately ignoring the scraps of silk and satin and lace he passes to work some blood and feeling back into his limbs. "I'm better off on my own."

 

"We protect people. Bet you'd be good at it." Standing, Negan slips his bat off his shoulder and twirls it with a skill that takes familiarity to master. Jesus frequently does the same thing with his knives when he's thinking, and he stops to watch for a moment before turning away.

 

"Don't need to," he says over his shoulder. "Think I'll take my chances alone. You feel free to keep swinging that bat though. Bet you'll make crowds tremble in fear some day."

 

"I just bet I will, sweetheart," Negan chuckles. He doesn't move while Jesus grabs his duffle bag and slings it over his uninjured shoulder - watches with amusement as he stalks toward the front of the store with only the slightest limp throwing off his stride. The ache is setting in fiercely, and Jesus revels in it. He pauses just inside the open doorway and smirks, throwing one last comment into the dim interior of the store before he's gone.

 

"Have a good night, _Daddy_. Don't let the dead ones bite."

 

"Keep that _pussy_ open for me, little slut," Negan retorts with a pleased rumble. "Daddy's gonna wanna come home one day."

 

"Fuck you," Jesus huffs, and he deliberately ignores the quick comeback fired from a grinning mouth as he slips out of the store and hurries back the way he'd originally come from. He has no plans to ever see Negan again, and he's wasted enough daylight to depravity.

 

Hitching his duffel bag higher up on his shoulder, Jesus pushes his way through an exit door and out into the fading sunlight.

 

\--

 

All of Hilltop is dragged outside of their fences - men, women and children alike forced to kneel while cackling men pace behind them with guns looking at home in their eager hands. Jesus lets his knees hit the dirt beside Gregory, silent and stone-faced as he glares ahead with burning eyes. The Saviors are proud of themselves - triumphant over the slaughter they've carried out and the bodies of those they've left strewn across the dirt-packed paths of Hilltop. Some of his newfound friends are amongst the casualties, and Jesus seethes as he waits for the right moment to lunge like a rabid jackal going for the throat of a careless lion.

 

He'd never wanted to join a community in the first place, but he's made a home in Hilltop now. He has friends, and connections - a strong role and a place to protect. And now the Saviors have torn it all apart. He can feel them buzzing as they wait for their leader, and Jesus sets his jaw and lifts his head higher defiantly as he watches several men approach.

 

He hears a cheerful whistle first - the quieter sound of something cutting through the air as its swung with a sure, steady hand. He watches sunlight glint off the tips of barbed wire hooks - sees the bat through a gap between two heavily armed men and feels his stomach drop like a stone. He feels sick and horrified as the bodies of the men move aside deliberately and Negan saunters into view. He swings the bat up, and Jesus swallows heavily as he sees the way it rests so comfortably against the man's shoulder even with its newest dressings.

 

It's been several months, but he still remembers those broad shoulders intimately. He remembers that deep, rumbling voice and the rabid, gleeful gleam in those dark eyes. He remembers the feel of a thick cock slamming into him again and again as he writhed and begged for more, and how he'd slipped away afterwards with no intention of ever coming across this man again.

 

He should never have let himself be caught in the first place.

 

"Hello, ladies and gentleman," Negan calls cheerfully as he roams up and down the line. His eyes skip over Jesus at first before recognition dawns and they jump back to settle on his face. Jesus lifts his chin and curls his lips back to bare his teeth. He may be a jackal forced into submission before a mighty king, but he's not going to bow his head to this lion again.

 

Negan's eyes say differently as he cocks his head with interest. His grin gets wider, _wolfish_ , and he laughs like a child that's just found their favorite toy as he swings his bat off his shoulder and holds it up for all of them to see.

 

"My name is Negan, boys and girls," he announces. "This fine girl is my best lady, Lucille. She and I, well, we're gonna make you fine folks an offer you can't refuse." His eyes settle back on Jesus, Lucille poised and ready while the people of Hilltop recoil in fear. The only one who doesn't, is Jesus. He meets Negan's stare without fear, even as his stomach twists into knots and his skin warms from more than the hot Virginian sunlight. Negan laughs again, a hyena's manic cackle, and spreads his arms wide as if to welcome them all.

 

"Daddy's home," he crows triumphantly. "Now let's get this party started."


	14. Show

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For lucdarling, who pretty much gave me a list of prompts that you will see in the next several chapters haha. I'm sorry it took so long for me to get around to filling them! Some of them are shorter drabbles, but I hope they're all okay for the most part! ;u;
> 
> This prompt was basically "Jesus being a ninja while wearing a plug"
> 
> Also, I apologize to whoever may have subscribed to this. Y'all are about to get multiple notifications. >_>

“Show me another.”

Jesus grits his teeth to bite back the whine. He's dripping sweat, his clothes plastered to his skin and his hair damp. His muscles are trembling, his legs weak; he can't stop clenching around the thick plug that's filling him up. He feels stuffed full and yet still so empty, because it's not Negan making him feel like if he doesn't get to cum then he'll die. The cock ring keeping him from reaching blissful orgasm isn't even as much torture as seeing his Daddy leaning back against the wall, head cocked and smirk in place, while he runs Jesus through combat moves.

“Daddy, _please_ ,” he begs, his voice shaky and crumbling like his willpower. He has pitifully low restraint when it comes to the black-hearted man watching him with the intensity of a predator.

“Show me another one, baby boy,” Negan says, waving his hand and grinning just a little wider; sunlight gleaming off his teeth and making Jesus whimper. “Daddy wants to see what you can do. So actually, show me a few. Give me a show, come on.”

His voice is light but the danger is clear, thick and hanging over Jesus like the most comfortable kind of security blanket. He basks in the possibilities, swallowing thickly and steeling his resolve to _succeed_ before he obeys.

The wall is solid against his boot. The wind kisses his slick skin like a blessing. His muscles respond, flexing as they're meant to - it's like there's nothing to hinder him as he jumps and twists and turns. As he kicks straw dummies and shows off for his Daddy's approval until Negan’s praise rings in his ears and Jesus feels as emotionally satisfied as he does physically deprived.

“Thank you, Daddy,” he coos sweetly, and when Negan nods he drops to his knees and crawls to his Master, peeling away tight jeans and dark cotton until he can nuzzle and suck at his prize. A hand fists in his long hair, pulling him closer, and he sinks his mouth down Negan’s cock until there's not an inch of it left exposed.

“Thank _you_ , baby boy. Daddy loved his show. And good boys get rewarded when they give a pretty show.”


	15. Hunted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also for lucdarling, who requested "chasing and getting caught in the woods"
> 
> Another kind'a really short one. I'm sorry. ;0; I hope it's still okay!

The woods are dark, nothing but the sliver of the moon to offer any kind of light in a world devoid of mankind's pollution. He can hear the shuffle and stagger of walkers, their hungry moans and hisses, and he steers clear of them; running on silent feet and trying to keep his panting muffled as his blood sings and his excitement swells.

Daddy had looked at him, had grinned a hyena’s grin and rumbled, “Run,” in a voice that held dark promise. Jesus had moaned and obeyed, had scaled the Sanctuary’s fence and vanished into the forest with Negan’s deep, hungry chuckle still vibrating against his bones. He doesn't know how long he's been running for, but every so often he hears a cheerful whistle and he turns another way, determined to make the man  _ work _ for his prize.

He's not expecting it when he's caught; the arm hooks around him, seeming to extend right out of the trunk of a tree, and he yelps in surprise as he's tripped and slammed against the ground. A heavy body follows, cock hot against his bare ass, and Jesus moans as his hips arch and his legs spread; as he offers himself to the beast that has won the right to his prey.

Negan fucks in deep, slamming home with little resistance, and his victorious roar mingles with Jesus’ primal, wanton howl to form a melody that the earth has known since long before civilization fell. They writhe and move together, teeth sink into his nape to hold him still, and Jesus claws at the dirt as he cums, moaning and begging as his Daddy rewards him for being a worthy chase just as he rewards the man for being a worthy hunter.


	16. Size Kink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More for lucdarling! This one, if you didn't guess from the title, is size kink! :D

His Daddy is so big that Jesus feels like he's choking before the man's cock is even down his throat. His lips stretch around the head, the feel of it pulsing against his tongue making him whine, and he surges forward to take as much as he can. He gags and drools, moaning louder as his lungs burn in protest, but it's too good to stop. He needs it too much, needs that control of heavy hands fisted in his hair to drag him closer. The head nudges the back of his throat and he struggles, gags again, but Negan will not be denied and Jesus is too desperate to stop.

It's like this every time. Jesus wonders if he'll ever get used to Negan’s girth, to the length of his heavy cock - to be honest, he doesn't care if he never does. His own tiny cock - barely big enough to fit in his Daddy's palm - leaks so much he's often teased about being as wet as a wife. It's embarrassing and so fucking hot that he'll cum just from taunts like that, and his Daddy loves it. He loves the degradation and being the only one Jesus kneels for. He's a possessive motherfucker, which is probably the main reason Jesus keeps coming back.

He always did love a Dom that doesn't share their toys.

“Already so fuckin’ wet,” Negan chuckles, and Jesus squirms as his tiny cock throbs. His Daddy is right - there's slick all over his thighs already, his public hair matted down by more. He's honestly surprised he hasn't cum yet, but Daddy hasn't started in on the taunts, and his massive cock is only a few inches down Jesus’ throat. There's still plenty left to go. “You like Daddy's cock that much, Princess? Like it down your throat more than you like it in that greedy pussy?”

Jesus tries to shake his head and ends up gagging himself _again_. His eyes are watering, his abdomen clenches, and Negan thrusts his hips suddenly, forcing his way in a little more. Jesus feels like he's going to pass out, _it's too much_ ; the blood is roaring in his ears and there's black spots dotting his blurry vision.

“Daddy's gonna give his whore a nice snack before I fill that hungry pussy too. How ‘bout that, Princess? See if we can't get that tiny, pitiful cock to cum so much you're _screaming_ because it hurts. Shouldn't take long; those grapes can't hold much, can they?”

Jesus comes so hard he blacks out, his throat stretched impossibly wide around its visitor and his cum dripping from his thighs as he sinks the rest of the way down onto his Daddy's cock and finds nirvana there.


	17. Leather Jacket

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last one for lucdarling! This one combined their "spanking" prompt with their "Jesus wears Negan's jacket instead of his own." I'm not sure if this is what you were going for, buuuuuut....
> 
> HERE YA GO

“What the  _ hell _ do you think you're doing?”

Jesus freezes, his fingers fisted in the supple leather of Negan’s jacket as he hugs himself in it. He feels almost drunk off the scent of his Daddy already, his nose tucked into the collar and the material scraping against his naked skin. The bottom of the jacket brushes against his thighs and flutters across the head of his leaking cock; the zipper adds a bite of cold metal that makes him shudder.

Negan fills the doorway, his broad shoulders pulled back and his head up; his nostrils flare as he takes in the sight: Jesus standing in the middle of the room, naked but for the leather jacket, with the remnants of his first orgasm still wet on his thighs.

“I'm sorry,” he blurts out, bringing his hands up to cover his flushed face and inhaling his Daddy's scent off the cuffs greedily. “I got curious.”

“I can see that,” Negan replies. He cracks his neck, rolls his shoulders, and points at the counter. “Over.”

Jesus whines but goes, gripping the edge of the counter and bending over obediently. He shuts his eyes tightly, his hips rocking in subtle thrusts as he tries to get friction against his needy cock.

There's no warning before the first smack, just the sound of air being displaced before a hot palm cracks against his bared ass. He jolts with a yelp, tears springing to his eyes. Negan rumbles before smacking him again, and again.

“You  _ do not _ touch Daddy's things without his permission,” the man growls. Jesus chokes on a sob and shakes his head frantically, digging his toes into the cold linoleum to try and brace himself.

“I'm sorry Daddy, I'm  _ sorry _ ,” he cries, the words fractured by his pained yelps and whimpers as Negan spanks him relentlessly. His Daddy is so strong, so fucking perfect with every swat, and Jesus is coming from the pain and the pleasure before he can even beg for permission, painting the inside of the leather jacket and drowning in his Daddy's scent as Negan’s hand lands on his burning ass one last time before it turns so two fingers can hook into his wet, needy hole.

“I don't think you are,” Negan comments as he fucks those fingers in, too deep too fast until Jesus is babbling and clawing at the counter. “I don't think you're gonna be sorry afterwards, either. But you're gonna make it up to me  _ now _ , aren't you?”

“Yes,” Jesus swears, rocking back onto Negan’s fingers and riding his hand. “Yes, yes, I will Daddy. I promise.”

“Good.”


	18. Thirsty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For nutm3g, who requested vampire!Negus! It's another short one, I'm sorry, but I hope you like it anyway! ;u;

“You're thirsty tonight.”

Jesus looks up from his kill, blood matted in his beard and dripping from his fangs. He hisses quietly, an instinctive reaction to another predator so close while he feeds. Negan growls back, baring fangs that are thicker and longer, and the fledgling purrs soothingly before backing away so his sire can feast.

“You already had your kill,” he mutters petulantly, frowning at the corpse of the man he'd slain. “This one was mine.”

“They are  _ all _ mine,” Negan rumbles. Fingers grip his chin painfully, jerking his head up until he's staring into blood red eyes. “Anything you take, anything you kill - every  _ drop _ of blood you  _ drink. _ It's all  _ mine _ . And do you know why that is, sweetheart?”

“Because I'm yours,” Jesus whispers. He nuzzles his sire’s palm, whining softly, and when Negan begins to feed Jesus nuzzles between his Master's thighs and takes the monster's cock into his mouth while being mindful of his fangs. He holds it there, humming out a contented noise, and when Negan rocks against his face he closes his eyes and basks in his maker’s presence.


	19. Pregnant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another for nutm3g, who also requested Alpha/omega in which Jesus realizes he's pregnant with Negan's baby.
> 
> *flails*
> 
> SO MANY PROMPTS I HOPE THEY'RE ALL OKAY

Jesus realizes before anyone else. It's a given, considering he knows his body better than any but his mate. He cradles his stomach and curls into himself, trying to stifle his terror when a few of the Hilltop folks give him odd looks as they pass by.

He would figure it out right in the middle of the street.

“I'm fine,” he promises, but no he's  _ not _ and he needs to get the hell out of Hilltop before anyone tries to get close enough to scent him. He needs to get far away before Maggie or Sasha catch a whiff of the cub growing in his womb and ask questions.

Jesus hasn't left Hilltop lately - not since he was in heat. Not since he'd followed Carl to the Sanctuary anyway and set Daryl free. He hasn't left the walls since he found himself pinned beneath an Alpha who was a monster, loving every second of it until he was knotted and coherent enough to realize what he'd done. Negan had bitten him, a mark he's kept hidden, and he hasn't seen the Alpha since that day no matter how deeply he's  _ longed _ for it.

Negan is a demon in human form, destroying lives and preaching salvation in the same breath. The Alpha has turned himself into a God among men, and Jesus should stay far, far away from the monster that has taken so much from his pseudo family. He should kill the child before anyone smells his changing scent; before his hormones flare and he gets attached and he's screwed. He  _ should  _ do these things; it's the right thing to do.

Instead, he hides in his den and waits for dark. Once everyone is asleep he  _ runs _ , pushing his body in ways he shouldn't. He climbs the fence and kills the guards, painting the walls red in a macabre representation of the omega’s fury and despair until he's panting and standing in front of his unwanted Alpha; red dripping from his hair and his eyes a wild, marbled bronze.

“I hate you,” he whispers. Negan eyes are silver, his grin a slow crawl that bares thick canines.

“No you don't, baby boy,” the Alpha croons. Jesus feels his knees weaken and pins his ears back, his tail stiff behind him.

“I  _ do, _ ” he insists, but when his Alpha cups his cheek and wipes a smear through the drying, tacky blood, his core pulses and he mews quietly.

“You don't,” the man says again. “Now come on in, sweetheart. Let's get you cleaned up and knotted before we see about takin’ care of that kitten, hmm?”

He leads, and Jesus follows, and the door shuts with a finality that lets him know that his old life is a shattered dream left just beyond the threshold. And he should be horrified, but he feels safe and warm instead, tucked into his Alpha's side with his nose full of the man's scent.


	20. Beautiful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For lady_boner, who asked for a "serial killer" drabble. I hope I have adequately filled your request without getting way too goddamn creepy ;u;

“You look so fuckin’ beautiful when you're covered in blood.”

Jesus basks in the praise, his eyes fluttering shut as he breathes in deeply. The scent of death is all around them, metallic copper and cooling flesh. His Daddy's musk adds a unique aroma, something perfect that makes him greedy.

“So do you, Daddy,” he whispers. He crawls across the woman's body and onto his Daddy's lap, already naked because that's how Negan prefers him - already wide open and empty, the man's cum dripping out of him and mixing with the blood, because that's what his Daddy demands of him. Jesus squirms and rocks his hips, making a needy noise. Negan wipes blood across his swollen, tender lips and kisses him. They share the taste, Jesus’ mouth wide open and lax for his Daddy to dominate and destroy as he pleases. Slick fingers guide him until the wet head of his Daddy's cock nudges his gaping hole, and Jesus drops with a ragged moan.

They tear into each other with teeth and nails, growling and writhing through the pools of dark crimson while their victims stare on with sightless, cloudy eyes. Negan commands and Jesus obeys, his head thrown back and his skin painted as he cums between them with a howl and Negan follows suit with his teeth buried into his boy's shoulder.

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” the man growls again, his teeth stained with fresh blood. Jesus hums happily and licks some more from Negan’s throat, all but purring against the hot, living skin as he digs his nails into his Master's strong back until they're wet.

“I love you too, Daddy,” he sighs sweetly. “Always.”


	21. Already Won

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For spideydeadpool, who asked for a drabble where Jesus is fighting his attraction to Negan, who knows exactly what his hard-to-get boy wants. I HOPE THIS WAS WHAT YOU WERE LOOKING FOR.

“You are the epitome of self-denial, did you know that?”

Jesus grits his teeth and keeps walking, his hands fisted at his sides and his heels grinding into the dirt. Negan follows him leisurely, whistling his cheerful tune and making comments that sink beneath Jesus’ skin and dig into the dark places in his heart.

“I don't know what you mean,” he bites out angrily. All around them, his terrified and mutely defiant friends are scrambling to collect their offerings to the Saviors. “Isn't Simon the one that collects from Hilltop? Why are you here?”

“I like to oversee my investments,” Negan replies; Jesus can tell that he's grinning even though he refuses to turn around. “Sometimes the big boss just has to do some grunt work, y’know? Make sure shit runs smooth. I _hate_ when it gets all clumped up. And you, baby boy, try to clump it up _a lot_.”

“I don't,” Jesus mutters. He chews at the inside of his lip and ignores the warmth that tingles through him. “I wouldn't risk that.”

“Wouldn't you?” Negan taunts. He comes closer, a strong arm wrapping around Jesus’ waist and pulling him back against the psychotic man's broad chest. He tries not to shiver, because Negan is a calculating man with far too much intelligence. His breath is hot against Jesus’ throat, making him swallow, and he clenches his teeth to keep any noises contained.

“What are you insinuating?”

“I know someone let my puppy out,” Negan breathes directly into his ear. Jesus can't help his next shudder or the way his head tilts slightly. “ _Someone_ has been trying to get my attention. Someone fast, and good at fighting. Some little boy acting out to get Daddy's _undivided_ attention.”

“Fuck you,” Jesus whispers inelegantly. “Let me go.”

“I really don't think you want that,” the older man chuckles. He presses closer until Jesus can feel his groin, can feel the way Negan rocks against his ass. His cock twitches, pleasure making him feel heady and dizzy. He fights as hard as he can not to rub back against the man; rips himself away instead and turns around to glare into dark, amused eyes.

“Don't flatter yourself,” hs snarls before he spins and stalks away. Negan follows, whistling again. Jesus can hear Lucille cutting through the air as her master swings her.

“I'm not in the habit of being so egotistical,” Negan tells him cheerfully. “I don't have to be when I've got a kitten that's so eager to purr my praises.”

“ _Never_ ,” Jesus vows. Negan laughs a little louder.

“You will one day, baby boy,” he promises. “You'll purr so sweet. Scream so beautiful. You'll beg so pretty for Daddy's cock that I just won't be able to say no. Not when my baby _needs_ it so badly.”

Jesus ignores him, but he can't ignore the way his lower abdomen throbs and his cock hardens. He can't ignore the memory of being pinned against Negan or the way his imagination runs wild as he thinks of all the ways he can, and will, submit.

 _It won't happen_ , he thinks furiously.

 _It will_ , another part of him whispers, and Jesus bites his lip and closes his eyes. That part sounds a lot like the desperate, needy _kitten_ Negan has been comparing him to. That dark, eager slut that craves the feeling of being stuffed full and tied down; only able to _feel_ and beg for _more, please Daddy, I need_ **_more_**.

 _It won't_ , Jesus thinks again, but it sounds a lot less sure than it did before.

 _It will_ , he thinks next, desperately, and Negan laughs darkly like he knows he's already won.


	22. Cookies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For kuzo, who asked for kitchen sex. Maybe also baking? I don't remember fully. Basically, they wanted Jesus getting fucked against the counter. So, tadaaaaaaaaaaaa
> 
> I HOPE YOU LIKE IT BEBE

The bowl drops from his hands, the plastic cracking when it hits the floor. It rolls when he kicks out, a desperate keen spilling past his lips. The fingers that have slid inside of him pump lazily, his Daddy's other broad hand shoving him forward until he bends over the mixing bowl he's been adding ingredients to.

“Don't you dare stop, baby boy. Daddy wants his cookies.”

“Daddy _please_ ,” Jesus moans. He tries to stir everything together but his trembling fingers won't stay tight around the handle of the spoon. His knees quiver, his hole clenching around the three fingers that curl to press mercilessly against his prostate. “I can't.”

“You _will_ ,” Negan corrects him, using his hips to lazily thrust his fingers in and out of Jesus. It's a different sensation, one Jesus is fast getting lost in; until those fingers spread wide and he screams. Drool drips into the batter, strings of it staying connected to his parted lips like gossamer strands. He imagines he already looks wrecked, his eyes black with need and his face flushed. Negan is too good at what he does, he knows how to wind Jesus up without getting him _there_ , and it's as infuriating as it is overwhelming. It's pleasure that's tinged by the pain of not-quite-there, and he knows Negan will he happy to hold him at the edge for _hours_ if he chooses.

“Finish the cookies, and then Daddy will reward you. Right up against the counter, just the way you like it.”

Jesus drops some batter on the floor and he's not even sure how, but he gets most of it on the tray and into the oven, the little balls misshapen and probably too close together in some spots. It's hard to see when your vision is blurred by crippling waves of pleasure; his cock is throbbing so hotly he's amazed he hasn't exploded yet.

“ ** _Daddy,_** ” he sobs. “You promised.”

“I did,” Negan agrees. His fingers are gone too suddenly, ripping a cry from Jesus’ throat, but then he's stuffed full of cock and his dismay becomes a wail of pleasure. He bends so easily to Negan like this. He loses everything of who he was and becomes a desperate creature; a slave to his Master's whims.

“That's right, little slut. Let Daddy hear you. Loud and proud.” Negan thrusts again, reaching deeper than anyone ever has or ever will again - because Jesus belongs to the monster pinning him to the counter and fucking him until he can't even beg. He belongs to the psychotic, murdering demon that takes so much and gives so little, and Jesus loves every moment of it even though he knows what the outcome will be.

The timer goes off and he comes with a silent scream, thick fingers in his mouth and a thick cock in his ass that twitches until it spills and the excess drips out around the base. Jesus twitches through the aftershocks and suckles weakly, his fingers cramping and his nails bent back from his grip on the unforgiving counter.

“Those smell good,” Negan mentions. He's still thrusting, still filling Jesus and not softening at all. “Take them out.”

“Daddy,” Jesus protests raggedy.

“ _Now_.”

Jesus takes the cookies out of the oven, bent over with Negan’s cock still all the way inside of him. He whimpers and moans and almost drops the fucking tray on his foot, but he manages to get it on the counter and shuts the oven. And then he holds onto the handle, writhing and begging some more as Negan fucks him again as a reward before they share the chocolate chip treats.

The cookies don't taste as good as Daddy's cock. Then again, nothing does.


End file.
